


Downriver

by Hanatamago



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: A bit of backstory worldbuilding, Background Theseus/Asterius - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mutual Pining, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatamago/pseuds/Hanatamago
Summary: While a dysfunctional family of gods gathers in the House of Hades to bicker and revel, Ariadne pays a visit to the glades of Elysium - and the minotaur who lies there.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur & Ariadne (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: Hades Rural Dionysia Exchange





	Downriver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surprisepink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/gifts).



A strange presence winds its way into Elysium, bringing with it not a chill in the air, but instead an unsteady, tepid sort of breeze. It unsettles Asterius to his very core. He turns to the shade, gazing up from his cozy patch by the river. He is curious, certainly, but wary as well. 

It is her.

The eternal twilight brightens in her wake, like a bleak, heatless sun. Her presence is cold, but there is light in it too. He is at a loss for words, first. Perhaps at a loss for thoughts, even. But she catches sight of him quickly, and the fraught silence breaks at last.

“Asterius? Is that you?”

Her voice is unfamiliar. It is not warped as in his nightmares, but a faraway, like a dream. Like a memory thrice reflected in a dull mirror, nearly unrecognizable. But she is, undeniably, Ariadne, though older than Asterius saw her last.

“Ariadne…” he murmurs, stunned.

But no, it is her. At least, she does not appear to be an illusion spun from the Lethe’s mist. She does not appear to be made of anything like the spectral weave of the rest of the plains. The garments she wears are dyed with rich, warm colors, far more vibrant than their faded pastel surroundings. 

Pure, vital energy rolls off of her in waves. She has never died—she is _immortal_ , Theseus has told him. And though ichor flows in her veins now rather than her mortal blood, she is far enough removed from the lifelessness of the underworld that her very presence clashes with the unsaturated plains. The strangeness of her appearance only complements the strangeness of the situation. Why has she come? And for that matter, how?

“Ariadne.” Asterius snorts, “I thought you were confined to Olympus.”

“Yes, well. Lord Hades does not often open the doors to the underworld, but apparently he has had occasion for it. A family celebration of sorts.” She looks away. “But I asked Lord Dionysus if I might seek you out tonight instead, and he encouraged me.”

“Why?” The sheer shock in his tone must deceive his otherwise motionless expression, because Ariadne flinches at it. Perhaps it is not so unthinkable, but she is a goddess now, after all. And Asterius is dead. If not in life, he has found contentment in death.

“To make amends, brother,” she says softly, “if you can find it in yourself to forgive my betrayal.”

“Betrayal…”

“I _am_ sorry for it. I thought… Well, it does not matter what I thought then.” She sighs, “Perhaps I should not have come. I hope I have not upset you, I knew—”

“I am not upset with you.” Asterius gestures to a smooth marble slab near his seat by the river. “Sit.”

She does sit, though hesitantly.

“There is nothing to forgive. I was grateful for your mercy.” Asterius rumbles. 

“Still… That is difficult to hear, and more difficult still to believe. That you would wish for death…” she hesitates. “It is still my own fault for not thinking of a better plan. I thought you would hate me for it. You _should_ hate me for it. What I did was cruel. You were my _brother_ , Asterius. And I arranged for your death.”

“I was not your brother. Not then,” he says. “The maze drove me to become something far more monstrous. It was you who kept me whole, Ariadne. But after that… I drifted into insanity. I was nothing more than a beast.”

“After father took away the light, you mean.” Ariadne shifts onto the grass, scooting closer to lay a hand over Asterius’. “If I was cruel, then father was hideously so.”

“He was. But I am grateful that you did not see me then, too.”

Asterius did not remember the feel of grass beneath his feet when he came to Elysium. He had not seen the outdoors since he was a child, before he was whisked away and locked inside the castle. But even held captive indoors, his mother nurtured him with illustrated storybooks and treats that he can no longer recall the taste of. When Minos’s shame grew too great for even the castle towers to bear, he was banished underground. 

He missed the grass, and he missed the light, but he still had Ariadne - and his mother, once every fortnight.

Until one month, Pasiphae visited for the last time, along with the baskets of vegetables and herbs she brought. He was left with only handfuls of chewy, half-cooked grain tossed through the grates above his cell. The dungeon’s halls became winding, ever-changing tunnels, and the air grew stagnant.

Only Ariadne stayed a constant, then. She could always find Asterius in the heart of the labyrinth. Her baskets of food and drink kept him sated, but it was her words that kept him sane. It was a depressing existence, then, but not torturous. Until Minos found out. Ariadne was barred from entering the labyrinth, but she still spoke to Asterius through the vents when she could manage. Daedalus must have known.

A guard caught them in conversation once, and Minos had no mercy left to spare. She was lost to Asterius entirely. Minos took her away - his last connection to the world above. Then Minos took away the grain, and he began to starve. Then Minos took away the light, and he began to go mad.

The Lethe has been kind to Asterius, washing away the painful memories of hunger and rot, but the labyrinth will never be gone from him entirely. Winding, godsforsaken tunnels will forever be etched into his mind. Some days, even in the plush comforts of Elysium, he still wakes to the phantom feeling of Athenian blood matted into his hide.

But he is _himself_ now. Not the monster that overtook him. He is _Asterius_ , the beast that Theseus somehow came to admire, and the brother that Ariadne tried desperately to save. He is a champion of Elysium - and a friend to the short one.

Though Asterius’ memories of the labyrinth are painful, it is better than the empty void of the remorseless, maddened monster of the maze who gladly feasted on children’s flesh. It is better to hurt, Asterius thinks, than to feel nothing of the blood he spilled. When he had turned monstrous, his memories of Ariadne shattered under the strain of that unending darkness. He had only fragments of her voice to guide him. Over time, those crumbled too.

But even the mindless beast had recognized her golden thread wound around the warrior’s hand. But even the beast recognized her thread wrapped around his savior’s arm. His body had fought, but his mind, what little was left of it, rejoiced in the sight. When the king struck him down, he had already long made his peace.

“I tried to visit even then, but father hardly let me out of his sight,” Ariadne laments, as though it were by her hand that Asterius was banished to the depths. “Perhaps I should have pleaded with Daedalus rather than him. Lord Dionysus tells me he’s much more agreeable. Though, that is hardly difficult, given father’s bullishness. Ah - I mean to say...”

Asterius snorts.

“You look much better, you know, Asterius.” She smiles brightly when Asterius returns the sentiment. “Last you saw me must have been when I was but a girl. Barely sixteen summers to my name.”

“How old were you when the king killed me?”

“Not more than twenty... Also, he wasn’t a _king_ then, just a foolish, lecherous prince. And do you have to say it like… like that?”

“Is it inaccurate?”

“...Perhaps not,” she concedes, mouth stiffening into a line. But her unease quickly fades in the joy of their reunion. “You’ve grown too, you know. You must be a whole head taller than I saw you last. Come, have you eaten anything lately?”

Ariadne rustles in her skirt for a second, and seemingly out of nowhere, a picnic basket appears in her hand. Asterius cocks his head, skeptical of whatever enchantments the basket might hold, yet fascinated all the same. Elysium has its delicacies, but Asterius has never cared much for their airy, weightless sweets.

“What is that?” he snorts.

“When making amends, Dionysus says it’s always best to start a party off with refreshments, yes? I know you don’t need to eat down here and all - we immortals don’t either, of course, but what’s the pleasure of life without a bit of feasting? Unlife too, I suppose.”

“There is no need for you to win me over with fanciful gifts, Ariadne,” he says, “but if you are offering, it would be rude of me to refuse.”

“Come now,” she laughs, “Dionysus would never allow me to come empty-handed.”

And empty-handed, she is not. Ariadne unfolds the picnic blanket resting atop the basket then spreads it out over the glade, beckoning for Asterius to sit with her. He does, of course. His hulking form must make an odd sight next to the delicate basket and treats within. Ariadne pushes a simple bronze goblet into his hands and unstoppers a bottle of wine - Dionysus’ regards.

“Have you had much wine here in Elysium?” she asks, “If Theseus hasn’t shown you the pleasures of food and drink, then I’ll have to see about channeling some of Dionysus’ wrath onto him,” she chuckles, “Though he gets a fair bit of my husband’s wrath already, doesn’t he? The prince asks for his aid rather often, I hear.”

“That is true,” Asterius snorts. “It is not pleasant to be on the receiving end, but certainly preferable to the powers the short one gets from Zeus and the like.”

Asterius takes a sip of the wine. Even now, the taste of it is still foreign on his tongue. It is fine, but he cannot understand the effect it has on the other shades who stumble drunkenly after a few glasses. Even when he matches Theseus’ pace in drinks, he hardly feels the buzz in his chest by the time the king is happily rambling and clumsy enough that Asterius has to carry him back to their shared home.

He peers inside the basket, studying its contents. Inside lay small slices of differently textured cheeses, wedges of pomegranates dotted with shining, jewel-like seeds, and other fancy-looking foods he cannot name. Theseus had brought him similar foods before, but he is still unfamiliar with the practice of indulging as such. In life, food was not a source of comfort for him, but of suffering. But though the ritual still seems strange, perhaps he can see the appeal.

“‘Short one, you called him?’” Ariadne laughs, “How tall is Prince Zagreus really? I’ve only seen him fight you and Theseus, and I think you tower over anyone well enough to make them look tiny.”

“You have watched us fight?”

“From time to time, yes… The gods’ powers are limited, but when Dionysus grants the prince a blessing, we can sometimes catch glimpses here and there, especially in the arena. I suppose the gods quite like watching their champions even after they’ve left the mortal realm.” She hands him a piece of the pomegranate, taking another for herself.

“Interesting.” Asterius bites into the fruit, crunching its little seeds between his blunt teeth. It is juicy. Sweet. For all the hangovers he had experienced at the short one’s hand, Lord Dionysus’ favors now made Asterius forget all such transgressions. “Do you enjoy it?” he asks, “I did not think you liked fighting.”

“Oh, well,” she blushes, “you’re right about that much, brother. The bloodshed, the athleticism… I don’t fancy it much, but there is something, er… _appealing_ about watching Zagreus beat the shit out of Theseus time after time. And you put on a good show too, for what it’s worth. Much better than any of those blustering Exalted. The two of you really are quite the team. Though I admit, I’m no fan of the chariot...”

“The short one is skilled. Even without the gods' favors, he is powerful and difficult to predict.” Asterius shrugs. “I thank him for the break from the monotony of this place.”

“Most mortals - or even shades - would not dare to call Elysium monotonous,” she chuckles, “ But I agree. You should see Olympus one day. It is… eventful, to say the least. The gossip is inane, but the fields there are lovely and bright. If Lord Hades would allow it, I would love to show you the gardens.”

Asterius grunts his approval. It is unlikely that the lord of the underworld would give _any_ shade permission to leave the afterlife. But it was also unlikely that a wretched monster in the depths of Erebus would be released and even ferried to Elysium. Seeing Ariadne here… Perhaps it was not impossible. But if there were ever a place that Asterius might fit less than Elysium, it would be the realm of the divine.

“He loves you, you know,” Ariadne says.

“Zagreus?”

“No, you buffoon.” She slaps her palm on her forehead. “Theseus.”

A long moment passes, heavy with the leaden weight of silent realizations.

“He’s loved you since the labyrinth,” she whispers, sounding smaller than ever. “And you… Oh, gods, you truly never had a clue, did you?”

“You are wrong.” Asterius shakes his head. “The king and I share a fraternal bond, but not a romantic one. He has said so quite often.”

“Oh, _bullshit_.” She rolls her eyes. “Gods, I thought all that was homoerotic posturing. You’re telling me he still hasn’t told you?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he protests, “I know you dislike him. I have heard of your… history,” he snorts awkwardly, “But he is honorable. The gods would not curse him as they did our mother.”

“Oh, Asterius,” her face softens “You’re being cruel to yourself. And quite oblivious besides.”

“You are wrong,” he says again, for he cannot believe such things. He cannot let himself.

“Am I? Why do you think he left me on that damned island?”

“Hm.” Asterius slowly meets her eyes. He has heard of the island, though admittedly not much, and only through Theseus’ words, save for the few pointed jabs other Elysian champions had thrown his way at feasts the king dragged him along to. “Because you were promised to Lord Dionysus? He demanded the king leave you on Naxos.”

“What - no?” she stares at him blankly, “Where did you hear that? Actually, you know what, it doesn’t even matter.” Ariadne huffs, “Look, ever since he saw you, Asterius, he’s been in love with you. I don’t think he ever even looked me in the eyes again after he left the labyrinth. He _dumped me_ on Naxos without so much as a half-hearted note. And _Dionysus_ was kind enough to look after me after that. He’s lucky other gods favored him, or Dionysus probably would have done worse.”

“I see. I am sorry. He was a fool to do that.”

She sighs. “Well, don’t be so sorry. Perhaps it worked out better for the both of us. Dionysus took me under his wing, and he got to sail around the world as a blowhard until the weight of his own ego crushed him. Or something like that. I never paid much attention to his mortal life afterwards.”

“The shades of Elysium say he was quite a hero in his time.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Plenty of heroes around here.” Ariadne shrugs. “But whatever, that’s not so important.”

She takes a long sip of her wine, clutching her goblet close. Asterius matches her albeit not as delicately. She toys with the edge of the blanket, eyes flickering with indecision before she gathers her next words.

“What’s important is what you’re going to do about your feelings for him,” she says. Before he even has the chance to protest, Ariadne calls his bluff. “Come, it is _so_ obvious, brother. And there is no shame in that. However, only Theseus bests you in obliviousness. And so, despite it being readily apparent to anyone with eyes or ears, I wager the two of you could dance around each other for centuries, unknowing. Or, you could do something about it. You both deserve happiness, do you not?”

“I…” Conflict twists in Asterius’ stomach. _Does_ he deserve happiness? Even now, he struggles to believe the notion. Though his death by Theseus’ hand may have forgiven his atrocities, he had certainly not done anything to earn a peaceful afterlife of love and contentment.

But Theseus had.

He deserved happiness. And if Asterius could give him that, then… Then perhaps Ariadne had a point.

“I suppose so,” he rumbles.

“Good. Of course, I still believe you could do better, but if your heart is set on Theseus, then…” she sighs, “Well, I suppose I understand, in a way. I loved him once too, though now I can’t fathom how. But if he makes you happy, then who am I to object?”

“He does,” Asterius mumbles, feeling just as exposed as when the short one uses Athena’s blessings on him in the arena. “The king is very kind to me, even when it might be unnecessary. And he is very…” he chokes, he cannot finish the thought when it is so… disrespectful.

“I don’t think it could ever be unnecessary to treat you kindly. Or anyone, for that matter.” Ariadne smiles and pats him gently on the shoulder.

“That is easy for you to say. The other shades do not regard me as well. I sometimes wonder how they regard the king, given our bond.” 

Ariadne laughs at that. “Well, the other shades have plenty of other reasons to dislike him, if they were alive during his time. To love a minotaur must rank least among his offenses. And you _are_ in Elysium after all. Inhuman or not, they can hardly claim that you are unworthy of being here if Lord Hades has allowed it.”

Asterius grunts his lukewarm concession and takes another long sip of the wine. The taste is nice. With each sip, he comes to appreciate its tartness more. But mostly, he appreciates the excuse not to speak more of Theseus.

“What were you going to say before? He is ‘very’...?” Well, the wine could not provide him shelter forever.

“It is nothing,” he says, but an invisible heat begins to rise in his cheeks. Not for the first time, Asterius thanks the Fates for not allowing his embarrassment to show as easily as it does on humans. But even now, Ariadne reads him easily.

“Oh, I don’t think so, brother. If it were, you wouldn’t be all flustered now.” She chuckles, “Come, tell your big sister all about all your boy troubles.”

“He is very beautiful.” Asterius mumbles quickly, “As I said, it is nothing.”

“Ha! Well, for all his flaws, he is quite the twunk. He attracted many women and men back in his day. His looks haven’t faded a bit down here, though I was surprised to see that he cut his hair.”

A ‘twunk’, then… Asterius does not know exactly what the word means, but it must be a high compliment if even Ariadne would say so. Perhaps he should mention it to Theseus next they spar.

“Ariadne.”

“Asterius?”

“Would it truly not bother you if I were to… pursue Theseus?” 

For a brother to take interest in his kin’s past lover… The shades he has met would frown on such a thing. Some might even label it a betrayal.

“Why should it? I no longer have any feelings for him.” She shrugs. “It would have bothered me in life, but… It has been many years. I see things more clearly now. When he first left me on Naxos, I was so angry, you know. I thought he had used me, and once he had his glory, I was nothing but a nuisance to him. But I was wrong, I think. It was the labyrinth that changed him, not its glory. It was you that changed him, Asterius. He may have lost any love he had for me, but I see where it went now.”

“...I see.”

“You love him, right? That is reason enough for me to forgive any perceived slight.”

“Hm.” Asterius snorts, “I do not know what I feel. “Love”... How should it feel?”

“Oh, hm...” she thinks for a moment. “Well, I’m no Aphrodite, but… Love can feel like a lot of things. You like the way he looks - that is attraction. And you respect him, maybe more than he deserves. Physically… You might feel a bit uneasy? Like your chest is tight, and you just want to burst sometimes when you’re around him?”

“Uneasy… That is a good description,” Asterius nods. “It feels strange when he touches me.”

Ariadne nearly chokes on her wine. He has said something wrong, surely, but he does not know what.

“H-how does he touch you?” Ariadne stammers, “Not - surely not, er…” She stammers, “I mean, not that there’s anything _wrong_ with that, I just imagine, see, I would think that if you were doing _that_ kind of thing, then you’d know-”

“He touches my arms often, even when we are not sparring,” Asterius mumbles, feeling terribly confused. But if Ariadne’s reaction is anything to go by, perhaps his embarrassment is warranted. “My skin feels strange when he does,” he coughs, “that is all.”

“Good, alright, good. Nothing untoward, then.” She lets out a loud sigh of relief. “It feels a good kind of strange though, right?”

“Does that exist?” he snorts, “Strange is strange, is it not?”

Ariadne rolls her eyes again. Asterius supposes he is slow to understand mortal things at the best of times, but this has him abnormally befuddled. “Okay, but when he stops touching you, you wish he hadn’t stopped, don’t you? You wish he’d hold your arm again?”

“...Yes,” Asterius huffs.

Ariadne smiles. “Then I think you love him, Asterius. You care for him, at least. Look, he can be kind of an ass, but if you love each other, then I wish you luck. And if he ever hurts you, then I’ll tear him to pieces, alright?”

“You do not like fighting.”

“No, no I do not,” she laughs, conceding the point, “but I happen to know an underworld prince who does, and who is also in very good graces with my kind, powerful, very-capable-of-tearing-Theseus-apart husband.”

“That is true,” he snorts.

A solemn bell rings in the distance. When Asterius looks towards the noise, he realizes that it heralds Charon’s arrival. He waits expectantly upon the Lethe’s shore. Their time, it seems, is up. The ferryman may be patient, but his message is clear: it is time for Ariadne to depart.

“It seems I must go, brother. They must have finished up with whatever feasting is going on in the house. Or worse, I’m to make an appearance,” she laughs, “Truth be told, I didn’t pay much attention to whatever the occasion is for gathering us all here in the underworld, but I’m sure Dionysus will tell me all about it soon.” 

She rises and pulls him into a hug. Her embrace is warm and comforting, like sunshine on his heatless, spectral skin. And though he misses the feeling when she breaks away, he thinks that Olympus, then, must be sweltering if all the other gods shine half as bright as Ariadne. If that is true, he does not envy the gods. Asterius moves to gather the corners of her picnic blanket, but she quickly waves him off. 

“Oh, keep it,” she says, “I might see you again sometime, if Lord Hades is willing. Else, I hear Lord Hermes has managed to send letters through from some of the others on Mount Olympus. I’ll write, at least! And you must write as well, alright?”

Asterius nods. “It was good to see you, Ariadne.”

“You too.” She squeezes him tight for a moment before letting go. “Even if you don’t see me for some time longer, know that you are not alone, Asterius. Never again. Consider this my way of making up for lost time.”

He nods, though of course, she has nothing to truly make up for. But Asterius cannot deny that he feels lighter having seen her well and happy. She must feel the same if her serene smile is anything to go by.

“Oh! And before I forget-” Ariadne fishes a smaller bottle of wine from the picnic basket. “This is for you and Theseus. Together. From Lord Dionysus.” 

‘Together’, she had emphasized. Hm. Asterius looks at the bottle suspiciously. 

“Thank you, Ariadne, but what-”

The bell rings again.

“Nothing bad, I promise! You may get a bit of a hangover though, but trust me - it will be worth it.” Ariadne giggles, “I’ve got to go, but I promise you’ll hear from me soon enough.”

Asterius walks with her to the long wooden rowboat. Charon leers at him in the way that he does all shades - not menacing, not warm, and not anywhere in between. His singular purple eye simply bores into Asterius’ very bones, perceiving him. Asterius finds all such gazes uncomfortable, though Charon’s is particularly unsettling. He glances back to Ariadne, ready to say his goodbyes.

“Farewell, Ariadne.” Asterius bows his head and helps her into the ferry.

“Farewell, brother,” she says, still with that bright smile. And then she is off, drifting down the Lethe as it bleeds into the Styx.

The glade dims to its usual twilight as she vanishes downriver. Though their time may have felt too short, Asterius is already thinking of what he should write in his letter, if Hermes would truly be so accommodating to carry their messages as well. He should include his thanks to Dionysus, perhaps? For setting up the meeting, and for the wine also, if it does not poison him. Or Theseus.

When Asterius returns to the cozy abode he shares with the king, he sets Ariadne’s wine on the shelf alongside their winnings of ambrosia. Perhaps they will drink it soon, but… Hm. Asterius has many thoughts to parse first. He is sure there is some enchantment on the bottle, and he is sure that Ariadne and Dionysus must _think_ it would help matters, however… 

Asterius is happy with their bond now, even if his love is a fragile, secretive thing. Despite Ariadne’s surety, could Theseus really want anything more? Asterius cannot know for certain, and the risk is great - surely if Ariadne has misread the situation, Theseus would only take it as a vicious slight. 

But if the king wants more - if he wants the same - then how could Asterius selfishly deny him? Out of only his own cowardice?

Asterius sighs. He moves the wine to the front of the shelf, placed conspicuously among the bottles at Theseus’ shorter height. No doubt, Theseus will see the bottle when he returns from his spars with the other heroes of Elysium. It will be his choice if he wishes to drink, Asterius thinks, and wherever the king leads, he will follow.

**Author's Note:**

> Asterius and Theseus, after a spar,
> 
> Theseus: “What an absolutely stupendous match, Asterius! With my unmatched tactical genius and your impressively thick pectoral muscles, the fiend does not stand even the tiniest, most pitiable of chances!”
> 
> Asterius: “That was well fought, my twunk.”
> 
> Theseus: [unintelligible gay panic noises]
> 
> \---
> 
> This was such a fun prompt to write for! I know you’ve already gotten one an Ariadne fill, so hopefully you enjoyed my take on her as well :)


End file.
